Desire

If flowers were desires,
the language of love,
which flower,
which desire,
am I speaking of?

World

Is their order of Kings?
Are their courts of Lords?
Is this a land of dreamers?
Spun like cotton candy,
pink against the sky.

The red balloon passes
by the altar of failed
hopes for our children.

Will they sparkle with hope
in their eyes?

Can we rebuild the walls-
the infrastructure as
Nehemiah tried?

A dream failed to die
today. Like the balloon
in France- transcendent
by stones.

We will listen to one voice
alone. Hope not fear-
brings us through our year.

We need each other,
working tools and weapons
of faith in hand.

That is how I stand.

Songs of my Father

Linda Rondstadt recorded
the songs of the heart of
her homeland-
that of her fathers.
Tu Solo Tu was sung
by my great-
grandmother, too.

She sang it on her hands and knees
as she scrubbed the kitchen floor.

A song for one she loved,
a kiss.

Does Besame Mucho
wait for me, another song perhaps?
Will the songs of my inheritance
come true at last?